melancholy. The wine needed to stop, not least because he knew Faye had noticed how many bottles they were getting through in a week. He could hear her in the kitchen, the squeaking of the tea towel as she dried dishes from dinner. She was listening to some talk show on the radio but it was faint and he couldn’t make out the words. She knew the noise bothered him when he was working. He frowned again. They had a wonderful daughter, his job as parish priest was respectable and Faye loved helping the community. They were seen as a loving, happy couple and even though David doubted the reality beneath the drama they played out, it seemed that Faye was content in her part. So he took another swig of his wine and carried on writing about the shade of Samuel appearing to Saul and how it related to the spirit world in the 21st century.
Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.45pm
Morgan followed Jake down into a sparsely furnished room with high tech equipment and a flat wall-sized computer screen. One of the men with them sat down to work a laptop. An image of a rough hewn stone appeared on the screen, similar to hers but carved differently. There were markings on it but it was otherwise unremarkable. Her stone still hung around her neck on the soft leather cord that her father had given to her. The one on screen had a silver chain and was also different to the one Jake wore.
She sat at one of the desks while he leaned against the wall beside the screen. His athletic body was relaxed but alert, muscles taut in tanned forearms that could be seen under his rolled up shirt sleeves. Morgan thought he gave the impression of a powerful jungle cat, his dark amber flecked eyes adding to the illusion. She watched him as he spoke,
“You need to understand the story behind the stones in order to grasp their importance right now. It’s tightly bound into the history of the early Church, so some is established history and some is myth.”
Morgan half-smiled, “and the truth lies somewhere in between, I suppose?”
“Yes, whatever you call truth, that is. Let me tell you what we know.”
The screen flashed to a map of Israel, then to Jerusalem’s Western wall.
“The story goes back to the Resurrection itself. The gospels and the Christian tradition say that Jesus was crucified and the eleven remaining Apostles waited after his death, not knowing what would happen next.”
Morgan cut in, “Yes, Matthew’s gospel tells of an earthquake that opened the door of the tomb and the Apostles realized Jesus had risen from the dead. But how is that related to what’s happening now?”
The screen moved on to show an open cave door in a garden. “The myth of the stones says that the Apostles took some of the broken rock from the tomb of the risen Christ, as a kind of evidence for the resurrection. They broke it into pieces and used it as the lots cast for the twelfth Apostle, Matthias.”
Morgan said, “OK, so far that could fit with the book of Acts.”
Jake pointed at the screen.
“The story goes on to say that the Apostles carved the pieces of rock into amulets to wear around their necks as a symbol of their brotherhood.”
Morgan leant forward now, engaged with the story and the images that spoke to her of her own life obsession with religion and myth. Could it be possible that she wore a stone with such history?
“There’s no extant tradition I know of this myth but I could imagine such a thing happening. The symbolism of the stone is pervasive in Christian myth, like Peter, the rock upon which the Church is built. Yes, I see. Carry on.”
The picture on the screen changed to a fiery tornado, an image of wind and fury, fire streaming out in bursts as it whirled. Jake continued. “The myth goes on to say that the power of the stones comes from the occasion of Pentecost, when the spirit of God touched the Apostles and gave them the power of healing, speaking in
Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.45pm
Morgan followed Jake down into a sparsely furnished room with high tech equipment and a flat wall-sized computer screen. One of the men with them sat down to work a laptop. An image of a rough hewn stone appeared on the screen, similar to hers but carved differently. There were markings on it but it was otherwise unremarkable. Her stone still hung around her neck on the soft leather cord that her father had given to her. The one on screen had a silver chain and was also different to the one Jake wore.
She sat at one of the desks while he leaned against the wall beside the screen. His athletic body was relaxed but alert, muscles taut in tanned forearms that could be seen under his rolled up shirt sleeves. Morgan thought he gave the impression of a powerful jungle cat, his dark amber flecked eyes adding to the illusion. She watched him as he spoke,
“You need to understand the story behind the stones in order to grasp their importance right now. It’s tightly bound into the history of the early Church, so some is established history and some is myth.”
Morgan half-smiled, “and the truth lies somewhere in between, I suppose?”
“Yes, whatever you call truth, that is. Let me tell you what we know.”
The screen flashed to a map of Israel, then to Jerusalem’s Western wall.
“The story goes back to the Resurrection itself. The gospels and the Christian tradition say that Jesus was crucified and the eleven remaining Apostles waited after his death, not knowing what would happen next.”
Morgan cut in, “Yes, Matthew’s gospel tells of an earthquake that opened the door of the tomb and the Apostles realized Jesus had risen from the dead. But how is that related to what’s happening now?”
The screen moved on to show an open cave door in a garden. “The myth of the stones says that the Apostles took some of the broken rock from the tomb of the risen Christ, as a kind of evidence for the resurrection. They broke it into pieces and used it as the lots cast for the twelfth Apostle, Matthias.”
Morgan said, “OK, so far that could fit with the book of Acts.”
Jake pointed at the screen.
“The story goes on to say that the Apostles carved the pieces of rock into amulets to wear around their necks as a symbol of their brotherhood.”
Morgan leant forward now, engaged with the story and the images that spoke to her of her own life obsession with religion and myth. Could it be possible that she wore a stone with such history?
“There’s no extant tradition I know of this myth but I could imagine such a thing happening. The symbolism of the stone is pervasive in Christian myth, like Peter, the rock upon which the Church is built. Yes, I see. Carry on.”
The picture on the screen changed to a fiery tornado, an image of wind and fury, fire streaming out in bursts as it whirled. Jake continued. “The myth goes on to say that the power of the stones comes from the occasion of Pentecost, when the spirit of God touched the Apostles and gave them the power of healing, speaking in
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